


Beyond the Boundaries

by Batsutousai



Series: The OT3 Saga [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Off-screen Character Death, Open Relationships, Threesome - M/M/M, loki is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to enjoy an open relationship when you can't find someone other than your rich, popular lover to sleep with you, a problem Loki solves by just finding another universe entirely. Enter Tom Hiddleston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A God's Gift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/746326) by [SeekingIdlewild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingIdlewild/pseuds/SeekingIdlewild). 



> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
>  **A/N:** This is entirely SeekingIdleWild's fault, and her fic [_A God's Gift_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/746326), wherein Loki brings Tom to meet Tony. (The prompt was handed to her by EllipsisObsessed, of course, so some of the blame to that corner. XD)  
>  My muse, little fucker that he is, started whispering in my ear partway through Seeking's fic, asking why Loki went looking for another universe, and what was going to happen after. And then, just because he ~~loves~~ hates me, my muse challenged me to write a threesome.  
>  I apologise, in advance, for the bastardisation of your world, Seeking. ♥♥
> 
> THIS WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE AS MASSIVE AS IT IS. I'M SORRY.

The Avengers were off, saving the world yet again, and Loki was _bored_. He could, of course, go find a nameless mortal to fuck – he often did when Anthony left him to amuse himself for longer than an hour – but he didn't really _feel_ like a nameless fuck. He wanted a mortal he might return to, but not one that would spread it around who they were sleeping with. (And there were few enough of those, with Anthony and his statuses, and the accidental revelation of their off-and-on _thing_ a few months past. If Fury hadn't lessened his attempts to put a missile through Loki's midsection after the news broke, fearing the bad press, Loki might well had found a spell to wipe everyone's memory. Though, Thor's gleeful fawning was almost enough to negate Fury's silent offer of peace.)

Loki kicked out at the model Rogers had spent the last four weeks putting together, sending it scattering all over the common room, looking rather like it had when he'd first pulled the project from its box. 

The chaos was pleasing for approximately a minute before a vision came to him of Rogers' heartbroken expression, and that completely ruined it. Especially since Loki knew the Captain wouldn't complain, disinclined to break the fragile peace that existed between Loki and Anthony's teammates. Anthony would wait until they were behind the soundproofed walls of the bedroom, then he would tell Loki exactly how much of a 'dick move' that had been, and Loki would have to find other bodies to slate his lust until Rogers had finished repairing the model. 

And when Anthony was punishing him for being difficult to the other Avengers, he was disturbingly capable of ignoring Loki's advances. 

Loki let out a growl and waved a hand at the mess, recalling it to its previous shape and position. Then he jumped up from the armchair he'd been slumped in and teleported to the flat he kept away from the manor. Anthony had made it more than clear that he would have preferred Loki to be rid of the flat and just take another room – perhaps another of the billionaire's other residences entirely, should the god require the space – as his own. "It would be better protected," Anthony had insisted, but Loki suspected it more likely the mortal just wanted to keep an eye on him. For all that Anthony insisted it was nothing of the sort. (Everyone wanted to keep tabs on Loki; it was the only way to possibly anticipate his actions and avoid even a part of the fall-out. He was resigned to it, for all that he very much hated it.) 

But Anthony, to his credit, had backed off when Loki had told him he would rather his stinking Asgard prison than giving up his flat. More to his credit, the mortal hadn't gone hunting for Loki's flat, though he very likely had an idea of its position, given how many magic-tracking subroutines were forever running under JARVIS' control. If anything, Anthony was giving protection by keeping SHIELD from finding it, something which Loki appreciated, for all that he would never say as much. 

Loki sighed, relaxing slightly at the ambiance of his flat, cloaked in magic and dark as night, save for the eternal candles. Anthony would hate it, would find it too claustrophobic, but it was exactly what Loki needed, some days, when the bright spaces of the manor reminded him too much of Asgard. 

For today, however, he needed only a book, a recollection of one of Clinton's idiotic films sparking the remembered passage; something about alternate universes. Because if Loki was going to find someone who wouldn't go to the media upon discovering they were being favoured by Anthony Stark's godly lover, it would be in a universe where Anthony wasn't Iron Man. 

Or, perhaps, where he didn't exist at _all_. Lest Loki find that universe's Anthony and take him as a second lover. As delicious as such a thought was, a large part of the joy in their open relationship was the ability to fuck someone who _wasn't_ Anthony. 

Still. Loki might consider such if Anthony banned him from the mortal's bed again for some imagined slight. 

The spell to travel between universes was not easy, but it caused little difficulty for one of Loki's calibre. Even less difficulty than he might have expected, given his current magical inactivity. 

It would require some days rest in the other universe, and he could not direct himself to a universe he'd never once visited. There was a chance he wouldn't be able to return to it again, even, though return to his home universe was a certain thing, as it would call to him. 

There were dangers, of course. The possibility of getting lost in the Between – the Void, Loki knew it as – was high, and contact with an alternate version of himself could prove fatal. 

But Loki's life had never been lacking in dangers, and he saw little reason to make a point in avoiding them now. Especially where his libido was concerned. So he made his preparations, teleported back to the manor for a nice, long night of using Anthony until the mortal could do little more than moan weakly when he was roused by JARVIS in the morning. 

And then, leaving the mortal to his wordless argument with his bodiless servant, Loki teleported back to his flat and activated the spell. 

-0-

The first universe Loki landed in had left him shivering in the frozen plains of a world conquered by the Jötnar over a millennium before. In the second, he found a version of himself working in peace with the Avengers, as a member of their team. A third found him raised Jötunn and Thor's lover. 

In the fourth universe Loki travelled to, he was captured and held by SHIELD almost immediately upon appearing; their fear at his continued existence – apparently his alternate self had been killed during the Chitauri invasion – had been so delicious, that he came back to the universe three times to cause mayhem and enjoy Fury's attempts on his life. 

But when he tried to return to that universe a fifth time, it slipped from his fingers and he scrabbled for purchase as the Void closed around him. At the last moment, just before he was lost again in that emptiness of fear and madness, he was caught by a universe, like arms of love and protection. 

Loki tumbled through the air, slamming hard against the ground, and lay, dazed, for a long moment. The residue of the Void clung, still, to his skin, and he shuddered under the cold crawl of it. 

"Hey, you okay, man?" a voice asked, and a warm hand settled on Loki's shoulder. 

Loki found enough strength to shift the littlest closer to the other, his presence chasing the last of the Void away. 

"I mean, that looked like some fall," the other continued, pushing against Loki's shoulder a bit. "Hey, at least say something. Do I need to call an ambulance?" 

Loki shook himself and pushed his hands down into the grass he'd landed on, getting up enough that he was no longer breathing dirt and blades of grass. "That is unnecessary," he replied, turning to face the other. 

They both froze as soon as their eyes met, the similarities all too clear. 

"Oh my God," the other breathed, blue eyes wide. 

Loki immediately jerked back, breaking the contact between them, a part of him waiting for the burning sensation that always came when he made contact with another version of himself. 

But nothing happened, and Loki began to relax. 

The other, too, seemed to have moved past some of his shock. There was intelligence in those eyes, racing for explanations that Loki could only guess at. And, then, "Tell me this is a trick and you're not Loki come to life." 

Loki blinked. "I am Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard." 

"Oh, God..." the other whispered, rubbing at his face. 

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And who are you, then? You clearly know me." 

The other looked at him from behind long fingers. "Tom Hiddleston. I'm a, well. I'm an actor. I play you." 

"You play me," Loki repeated blandly. But his mind was racing, making connections even as the other explained. 

"There's, ah, there are films, of you and Thor and Iron Man and everyone. And I play you." The mortal – for he must have been, to be willing to lower himself to acting in mortal films – tilted his head to one side. "You didn't know that," he said, not a question. 

Loki snorted. "What care have I for mortal entertainment?" 

Hiddleston pointed at him, something like amusement glinting in his eyes. "You haven't asked what a film is." 

Loki rather couldn't decide if he liked this mortal, or wanted to flay him. 

"Tom!" someone called from out of sight, beyond some bushes. 

The mortal turned to look, a frown turning his lips. "Ah, hold on!" he called back. 

Loki took the mortal's distraction as a chance to teleport away, to an empty alley in a busy city, where he might learn more about these films. And perhaps discover where Anthony and the other Avengers were. 

-0-

Loki spent the requisite three days to recharge his energy watching the films Hiddleston had mentioned. It didn't take long for him to determine that this universe had not even a hint of those Loki had come to know in his knowledge of the Avengers. He thought the reason to lead back to the lack of ambient magic in the universe, something he'd always felt in the other universes he'd visited. 

For a sorcerer like Loki, the idea of an entire universe where true sorcerers could never be born, was a chilling thought. It was like a piece of him was missing, and it terrified him as much as it intrigued him. 

_How?_ was his constant question. How could a universe come to exist without ambient magic? Or how could a universe _lose_ its ambient magic without destroying itself in the process? He had been led to believe that ambient magic supported life, supported the connection of matter such that there was solidity to the universe. 

But this universe remained, even without that ambient magic. Loki wanted to study it, but he also wanted to run far, far away. Back home, to the safety found in the steady hum of the arc reactors that powered both manor and Anthony's heart, or the buzz that clung to Thor's skin, even when he was in an exhausted rest. 

He did return to his home universe as soon as he could, comforted by the magic in the air and the gasped curses of his mortal lover as Loki fucked hard and slow into him, one hand held tight over Anthony's arc reactor. 

"Please recall that we're always on duty," Rogers requested with a hint of red to his cheeks when Loki entered the kitchen the next morning, stark naked, the evidence of the night previous fading pink down his back, where Anthony's nails had scratched hard enough to draw blood. "Having Tony out of commission doesn't help anyone." 

Loki flashed the Captain a smirk before leaning down in front of the fridge, ostensibly looking for food, but really just enjoying the chance to torment the soldier. (Rogers wasn't embarrassed about naked women or men, per say, but about the subject of sex in general. And he was uncomfortable with the topic of homosexuality, though supportive. Loki hadn't known there _was_ a question of support until the news of Anthony and he had broken; other beings of the Nine Realms had long moved past homophobia, especially when one of the beings involved was a shapeshifter.) 

"Are you saying I'm invaluable, Cap?" Anthony teased as he walked into the kitchen. He'd taken the time to slip a pair of low-riding trousers on, but the evidence of their long night was clear in the bites along his throat and down his chest. 

Rogers snorted, carefully looking no lower than Anthony's eyes. "I'm saying–"

"Oh my _God_!" Clinton screeched, backpedalling out of the kitchen. "Loki's back!" 

Natasha stepped calmly into the kitchen, appreciatively eyeing Loki's behind. "Mm. So you are. We need to sharpen your nails again, Stark." 

Rogers groaned from the table and he stood. "And that's my cue to leave." 

Anthony grinned at the female spy. "You could always join us and show me how it's done," he offered, reaching down to trail a hand over Loki's arse and up his back, along the healing marks. 

Natasha smacked Anthony's behind hard enough to make him wince. "You couldn't handle me, Tony." 

Loki straightened. "Ah, my Lady Arachnid, you mustn't tease so. One might take it as an–" he made a long sweep of his eyes down, then up her body, "–invitation." 

"Put some pants on before Clint starves in the hall, please," Banner requested as he calmly stepped into the kitchen. 

"This should disturb me?" Loki wondered as Anthony snickered next to him. 

Banner considered him for a moment, unembarrassed by nakedness, then offered, "I heard Thor–"

Loki immediately motioned to clothe himself in his casual Asgardian leathers, having no wish to again be greeted by the other god after a long absence while lacking clothing. 

Banner proved himself too wise to lie to Loki, for Thor followed Clinton into the kitchen, expression bright with a level of glee that was, frankly, disturbing. Loki was caught up in a hug, despite his protestations, and held until he conjured a flame to burn Thor's beard. 

Really, it was a normal morning in the manor. 

Loki _almost_ hated it. 

-0-

"There is a universe out there, where we never existed," Loki told Anthony a week after his return from said universe. He was only just back from yet another universe, one where he'd arrived in time to watch Anthony executed by that universe's Thanos. He didn't want to remember the image of a hand thrust through his mortal's ribcage, false heart held in the same hand as his real one, or the resulting bloodbath he'd incited in retaliation, so he'd turned his thoughts to that other universe. The one that made his skin crawl in remembrance, but hurt far less than the one he'd just left. 

"You smell like blood," Anthony commented, not looking up from his holographic display when Loki pressed up behind him. "Please tell me you weren't killing goats again for some ritual." 

"I was bathing in the blood of my enemies," Loki replied. 

Anthony fell very, very still for a moment, then he reached out to bring up a news application. "JARVIS?" he asked. 

"There have been no such reports, Sir," JARVIS reported. 

Loki pressed his nose into the mortal's hair, breathing him in, and murmured, "You told me not to tell you–"

" _Usually_ , when I tell you not to do something, you do it _anyway_ ," Anthony muttered, waving the news window away. 

"I would hate to become predictable." 

Anthony snorted and glanced over his shoulder, only to recoil and forcefully pull away. "Fucking _Christ_ , Loki! Shower. _Now_." He pointed towards the lab shower. 

Loki glanced down at the splatters of dried blood soaked into his leathers and flaking from his skin. Then he looked back up and twisted his expression into something entreating. "But the ritual–"

"You are one sick fuck," Anthony declared, still pointing towards the shower. "Go. Now." 

" _Antho_ –" Loki started on a whine. 

"I will call Thor down here. I will hate myself for it, but I will do it." 

Loki huffed and stalked over to the shower, vanishing his clothing before stepping into the clear glass stall. 

Anthony didn't join him, though Loki felt the mortal's eyes on him as he bathed, and put on a rather enticing show as a result. However, as previously mentioned, Anthony could be quite stubborn when riled. 

When Loki stepped from the stall, however, clean and damp, Anthony approached him with dark eyes. "You lied to me," he commented, voice low. 

Loki smirked and stalked forward, meeting the mortal in the centre of the clearing around the shower. "So I did," he murmured, leaning down and nibbling at Anthony's earlobe before adding, "How will you punish me?" 

Calloused hands pushed against Loki's bare shoulders and he knelt under their direction, licking his lips as one of them left to undo Anthony's zipper. "Open your mouth," Anthony demanded, fisting a hand in Loki's hair. 

The god cast an amused smirk up at the mortal, the subtle reminder that he was only in charge because Loki _let_ him be, then he opened his mouth, slack and willing, and Anthony grunted in approval before setting about using Loki to please himself.

-0-

Loki didn't think about that magicless universe again until another fall through the Void – aiming for another universe and losing his grasp on it – found him again being rescued by it before it was too late. 

This time, he didn't land on grass, but rather on a person. Who proceeded to let out a startled sound as they both hit the ground, hard. Warmth, oddly familiar and comforting, radiated from the person, and Loki relaxed into it, willing it to push away the last touch of the Void. 

"We've got to stop running into each other like this," a cultured voice commented. 

Loki opened his eyes and found himself nose-to-nose with the mortal who shared his face. Hiddles-Son, or some such. He wanted to pull away, but exhaustion had remained in the wake of the Void, and he dropped his head down to rest on the mortal's chest, warm and disturbingly safe. 

The mortal sighed and a hand settled between Loki's shoulder blades, moving slow and comforting. "You're not light, you know." 

"Comfortable. Shut up," Loki muttered. 

The chest under his head jerked on a huff of amusement. "Okay. Shutting up," the mortal replied, gentle and amused. 

Loki didn't even realise he'd fallen asleep until banging on a door jerked him awake. He immediately rolled off the mortal, turning to glare at the offending door. 

"Tom!" a voice called from the other side. "You're going to be _late_!"

The mortal let out a quiet groan and slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Fuck," he breathed, then raised his voice to call, "Sorry, Luke! Must've fallen asleep. Give me a minute!" 

"You've got five!" the other called back, then came the sound of retreating footsteps. 

Loki looked back towards his mortal mirror to find blue eyes watching him. "I have a premiere to attend. Will you be okay on your own for a few hours?" 

Loki bristled. "What are you implying, mortal?" 

"That you look a bit like death warmed over," the mortal said, not even flinching from Loki's sharp tone. He sighed and got to his feet, stretching with a groan. "Here." He held out a hand to Loki. "Let's get you to bed, okay? You can sleep some more while I'm gone. I promise no one'll disturb you." 

Loki would never admit it, but exhaustion still clung to him, completely inexplicable in its existence. He let the mortal help him up and proceeded to stumble once he was on his feet, but the other caught him, expression strained. 

"This way," the mortal murmured, and they walked together down a hallway to a bedroom with a fair-sized bed. It was smaller than Anthony's, but not by much, and it was just as comfortable, when Loki fell into it. 

"Get some sleep, Loki," the mortal said, pulling a blanket up over the god. Then he left, and Loki fell into a deep sleep. 

-0-

When Loki woke, he felt much rejuvenated. The mortal was sleeping next to him on the bed, one hand entwined with Loki's, for reasons the god could hardly begin to guess at. 

_Hiddleston,_ he recalled. _Tom Hiddleston._

A plebeian name, like 'Tony'. Loki didn't like it, didn't think it suited this mortal who seemed so clever, yet so impossibly kind. Like a complicated mess of Anthony and Thor. Or perhaps Banner and Thor; it would be difficult for anyone to be quite as clever as Anthony. (At least, according to Anthony. Loki only took him at his word because debating it meant no sex. Also, because if he started questioning the mortal's genius, Anthony would question his own, and no one would appreciate the property damage that would result.) 

Loki slipped his hand from Hiddleston's and got up to snoop around the flat, absently directing his magic to change his protective leathers into something slightly more Midgardian and comfortable. 

It was a basic living quarters, not dissimilar to his own flat, but far more human. And brighter; streetlights lit patterns across the area rugs through the large windows, and electronics flashed green and red and blue, marking the most expensive corners for any would-be burglars. 

The kitchen was mostly blocked from the streetlights, but the fridge light easily lit it when opened. Loki considered the options before sniffing through what mortals called 'leftovers', making a face at the first one, but finding the second and third ones to his liking. A moment's thought had them just warm enough, and he found utensils in the first drawer he tried. 

Armed with food, Loki returned to the small object that looked like the laptop Clinton sometimes pulled out to make Anthony twitch. Loki had never been allowed too near his former servant's laptop, but he'd watched Clinton use it enough times, and he was well familiar with Anthony's tablets and holographic touch displays, so it took him but a moment to acclimate to the far inferior technology. 

Once he'd taught himself to use the computer, Loki took to the internet, something he hadn't bothered with during his last visit to this universe. It was as all-encompassing as in his universe, and it didn't take long for him to read up on his current host. 

"Thomas," he murmured, tasting the mortal's true name. It was far more to his liking, and he stored it for future use. As though it was a forgone conclusion that he would return to this universe, though he had no intention to ever seek it out. 

A noise from behind him had Loki turning to watch as the mortal – _Thomas,_ he reminded himself – approached, running one hand through his short, light hair. "Feeling better?" Thomas enquired, then proceeded to yawn. 

Loki considered the mortal for a moment, then allowed, "I am much improved." 

Thomas nodded and his gaze turned to the lit computer screen. "Ah. Looking me up. Anything interesting?" 

"Nothing you would not already know," Loki returned, closing the top. 

Thomas chuckled, eyes bright even in the limited light. "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes, people like to make things up and post them, just to confuse everyone else. Or they assume, like that time everyone thought I was married." He waved his left hand in the air, clearly showing a lack of ring. 

Loki huffed, familiar with the lies told of those with fame. "I am more than capable of discerning truth from falsities." 

Thomas considered that for a moment, head tilted to one side. "I believe you," he decided and walked into the kitchen. The fridge door was opened, lighting everything and casting a long shadow up the far wall. Loki watched it for a moment, the easy motions of the long, thin arms oddly hypnotising. 

Thomas found whatever he'd gone in the fridge for and used the microwave to heat it up. When he returned to the dining room, Loki had opened the computer again and was looking through another page about the actor. "I'm curious." 

"Of what?" Loki replied, not looking up. 

"You, of course." 

Loki jerked his head up to watch the mortal slide into the chair next to him. "You know much of it already," he allowed, cautious. 

Thomas picked out a spoonful of whatever he'd found and considered it for a moment before saying, "So the movies are real? Well, real for you." He stuck the spoon in his mouth. 

Loki snorted and returned his attention to the computer screen. "Some few differences, but yes, your films are truth." 

Thomas pointed his empty spoon at Loki. "So how'd you get here? What happened after Thor took you to Asgard?" 

"He didn't." 

"He–" A hand carefully closed the laptop, and Loki turned to glare at the mortal, meeting blue eyes that requested an explanation and didn't flinch away from Loki's irritation, as so many others might have. 

Loki scowled and tapped at the top of the laptop, sharp and violent, then snarled, "The Tesseract did not survive the battle intact. A stray shot hit the creation Selvig had built just as Natasha cut the power. It exploded, and the Tesseract was beyond such feats as transport to Asgard." 

Thomas' eyes had gone wide, and he let out a sharp breath. "Natasha? And Selvig. Did they–?"

Loki snorted. "The sceptre protected Natasha. Selvig was thrown into another wall and broke his arm. I was informed he was a misery while it healed." 

"How long ago was this?" Thomas got out on a hard breath. 

Loki had to pause to consider that. Time had been uncertain, in the beginning, as SHIELD had drugged him rather heavily to keep him confined. He still didn't know what Thor had said to Fury to see him freed, or why Anthony had allowed him into the manor while he recovered, but he was occasionally grateful, when he allowed himself to remember that absent sensation. 

But he'd been free of SHIELD's drugs for almost three years, now, and judging by the level of restoration that had occurred by the time he was recovered, he doubted he had been prisoner for more than a year. So, "Four years, perhaps some fewer." 

"What happened to you, then?" Thomas asked, leaning forward, his food forgotten. "I doubt SHIELD could have held you for long." 

"Fury is nothing if not determined," Loki returned, lip curled with the hint of a snarl, then he looked away, out the nearest window. "I caused difficulty for them, for some time; little things, which were easily solved, that Thor was all too happy to ask them to ignore, in light of other enemies." He smiled, a little bitter. "I made some true enemies, and when they hunted me down, Thor and his shield-family offered me safety. I had little choice but to take it." 

"So you live with them? With Iron Man and Captain America and–"

"Desist," Loki ordered, turning to sneer at the mortal. "When it pleases me, I share Anthony's bed." Thomas choked, and Loki flashed him a sharp smile. "When it doesn't, I find another to keep me pleased, or rest in my own flat." 

" 'Another'," Thomas repeated, blinking a few times. "Like, other Avengers? Or–?"

"Alas, Natasha is ever turning us down," Loki admitted, delighting in the flush that spread over Thomas' cheeks. "And Clinton would sooner put an arrow through me than allow me to his bed." 

Thomas coughed. "But, Steve? Bru–"

"I do not sleep with those who can so easily break my spine," Loki snapped, voice sharp. He closed his eyes and took a quick breath, then smirked and added, "Rogers is far too easily embarrassed. I have offered, but he only ever flees, red as a cherry." 

Thomas covered his eyes and shook his head. "So you, what? You cheat on Ton–"

" 'Cheat' implies he is disapproving, which he is not. As I have no disapproval of his dalliances with what women he pleases to bed." 

Thomas peeked through his fingers, then, eyes curious. "You have an open relationship?" 

"That is the word he uses for it, yes." 

Thomas took a deep breath and returned his attention to his food. "I'm not sure I could ever live like that," he admitted. "I mean, it's hard to love someone when you're both spending time sleeping with others." 

Loki snorted, cold and unamused. "You assume there is love between us." 

"Isn't there?" Thomas returned, blue eyes flashing challenge as he met Loki's green. "You're at least a partially exclusive." 

"He is one of the few that I need not fear sleeping next to," Loki returned acidly. "His sense of honour disallows him to murder me while I am unawares." He flashed a smile that was a little too sharp around the edges. "And the sex is not unpleasant; Anthony is willing to try a great many things other mortals would not." 

Thomas swallowed and looked away, down to where he'd been twitching his spoon between his fingers. 

There passed a long silence, then Thomas asked, "Why are you here?" 

Loki didn't bother pretending to misunderstand, but he also refused to give the full answer. "I'm travelling between universes for someone to fuck a few times." He gave a slow look down and up what he could see of the mortal, then asked, "Interested?" 

Thomas pressed his lips in a thin line. "I don't take part in sex unless there are feelings involved." 

Loki let out a false sigh of sorrow. "Pity." 

"Of course," Thomas added, proving that he had more than enough bite in him to be Loki's mirror, "you could always try Scarlett, if the Black Widow is your style. _She_ might actually be willing, if you play your cards right." 

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I will," he agreed, flashing a cool smile. 

Thomas smiled right back, just as cool and a little sharp around the edges. "Feel free to not bother coming back." 

"I have no intention to," Loki promised, then gathered his magic and teleported away, to somewhere where he could look up this 'Scarlett,' and perhaps find a place to stay until he could return to his universe again. 

-0-

Anthony was not in when Loki returned to his universe, and JARVIS had no reason to hide the fact that his master was in the middle of entertaining a couple rather buxom women. Not that Loki hadn't enjoyed himself while in Thomas' universe – LA was equally full of willing men and women in all universes, it seemed – but he had rather expected to return and find Anthony, as he had each time previous. 

Disgruntled and tired – and not at _all_ bothered by Thomas' words and the sensation of his stomach sinking upon finding Anthony not in residence – Loki teleported to his flat and curled up in the little-used bed to sleep. 

He spent the rest of his three days there, a childish punishment for his unknowing lover, then picked a universe at random. No one there knew a thing about him, but SHIELD clearly existed, and Loki spent a week gleefully fucking his way through their ranks, just to say he had. 

Unsurprisingly, Natasha turned him down, but Loki would remember Clinton's orgasm-face for centuries. (And maybe rub it in the archer's face, if he ever told any of them he was travelling between universes.) 

-0-

"She'll never say yes," Anthony complained, eyes dancing with the old joke. He'd teased Natasha about a threesome again and, as ever, she'd turned him down. Though she _had_ slapped the inventor's arse while leaving, which had amused Loki entirely too much to vocalise, and Anthony had grinned and called after, 'I'll count that as a "maybe"!'

"You simply have to know how to speak to her," Loki replied, stretching across the bed. 

"Mm-hm." Anthony leaned over and licked at one of the bite-marks still ringing Loki's left nipple, not yet healed, though it was well on its way. Loki arched into the mortal's mouth, letting out a rumble of pleasure. "I suppose you know a way?" 

"Perhaps I've already slept with her," Loki teased, then let out a sharp breath as Anthony's hand brushed along his thigh, just close enough to catch his stirring cock's attention. 

"Liar." Anthony's hand pulled away and he levered himself up enough to catch Loki's gaze, amusement and arousal warring in dark eyes. 

"Someone who looks so like her, they might have been twins." Loki reached out and shoved at Anthony's supporting arm with just enough pressure to get it to give out without hurting him. A silent reprimand. 

" 'Tasha's twin, huh?" Anthony replied, leaning up on an elbow. "And you didn't send her my way?" Then his hand closed around Loki's cock, startling the god into a gasp and a buck of his hips. 

Loki ground his teeth for a moment, forcing down any other noises of pleasure as the mortal started an expert handjob. "She is not within your mortal reach." 

"Please tell me you haven't been fucking goblins or whatever other weirdoes you have out there on your tree," Anthony complained, his hand stilling.

Loki shot him a glare. "Take care what you infer of those not Midgardian, Stark," he warned. 

Anthony winced and lowered his head to Loki's stomach, facing away. He pressed a light kiss just under his navel, then shifted down enough to take Loki's cock in his mouth, an apology spoken in the language they were the most familiar with. 

Loki bit his tongue against the need to buck into that warmth. He buried one hand in Anthony's dark hair, but took care not to direct the mortal overmuch, lest he damage him. 

Not that Anthony _needed_ direction. The man was well-enough practiced at giving head, and their time sharing a bed had taught him all of Loki's preferences. He knew exactly how to draw it out, or bring Loki to immediate completion. And he could read Loki well enough to know which way he would prefer at that moment. 

_Really,_ Loki told himself as pleasure sparked through him, _it's just this. This is all there is between us._

-0-

_"Don't be an idiot; realise what you've got before it's too late,"_ another Loki had told him, regarding Anthony. A universe where that Loki and Anthony were exclusive, and sickeningly in love. He'd only stayed because he had to, and even then, he'd avoided his counterpart as much as possible. It had only been as he'd been preparing to leave that he'd been caught and the other him had told him those words, taking care not to touch Loki because they both knew the consequences, and neither would wish to see the other hurt. It wasn't their way. 

Now, here, standing over Anthony's hospital bed, those words wouldn't leave his mind. He felt sick at the memory, at how much they shot like an icicle through what was left of his heart. 

_It's only **sex** ,_ he insisted, but it sounded hollow, even in his head. 

It seemed even Loki could only truly lie to himself for so long. 

"Hey," Anthony croaked, one burn-covered arm raising towards Loki. 

"Desist. Before you harm yourself further." 

Anthony's lips, nearly lost in the memories of fire marking his face, turned with what should have been a smile, and his dull eyes flicked towards the IV at one side. "I'm so full of drugs, I wouldn't feel it if you broke my arm. Stop pacing." 

"I do as I please," Loki snarled, but he did come over to settle lightly on the visitor's chair, hands fluttering uselessly just shy of touching the bed. 

Anthony sighed, a sound like the loss of life, and Loki resisted the urge to grab him, to demand he stay like some lost _child_. "I didn't think you'd come," Anthony murmured. "You've been gone so often..." 

Loki stared at him, feeling hollow and sick. "Why would you go into that building?" he asked, the words slipping past his lips before he could stop them, aching with unshed tears. 

Anthony's eyes zeroed in on him, something like surprise flickering in them for a moment before the drugs dulled it. "I had to," he said, quiet, voice crackling like the flames that had so marked him. "I can't just leave kids to burn, Loki." 

Loki jerked to his feet and began pacing again. "Why _you_?"

"Clint was the only other one there." 

Loki had sat long enough to get the basics from Rogers, of course; he knew what had happened. A lucky shot had taken Anthony's armour out of commission and falling to pieces around him. Clinton's rappel arrow and a perfectly-timed jump had been the only thing to save Anthony's life. A nearby nursery had caught fire when the enemy that had disabled Anthony followed him, and Anthony had left Clinton to cover him while he got the children out. 

In nothing but his under suit. 

The doctors weren't sure Anthony would survive. Banner had mixed up some sort of concoction to keep him alive long enough for Rhodes to be called back from his current deployment – and for Loki to, perhaps, return from his 'current dark hole,' as Clinton had scathingly put it – and say goodbye. Anthony's last wish was to have all his friends with him when they pulled the plug. 

_"Don't be an idiot; realise what you've got before it's too late."_

That other Loki had, too, almost lost his Anthony. He'd returned to Asgard and pleaded for one of Iðunn's apples to save the mortal's life, and his plea had been granted. 

Could Loki do the same? 

"Don't you _dare_ die until I've returned," Loki snarled over his shoulder, then teleported to the site where the temporary Bifröst – created by Jane Foster and SHIELD, and connected to what had been rebuilt so far on Asgard – was set up. Thor, Loki knew, used it every few months to return home, and the Warriors Three and Sif had used it during a couple of times of need. Loki had been asked to return to Asgard, by Thor; told Mother missed him, that Odin was willing to absolve him of his crimes if he would only return to give his plea, as Thor had on his behalf. But Loki had never taken this bastardised Bifröst, had honestly never intended to return to the others of the Nine Realms. Certainly never Asgard. 

This was what he did for Anthony Stark, to silence the voice of another him. 

A group of SHIELD soldiers approached as Loki reached the centre, guns drawn and pointed at him. He smiled at them and held his hands as though in peace, though they all knew he was always armed. "I am expected," he said, pointing up. 

"We've got orders to keep you planet-side," one of them stated. 

"Orders from _whom_?" Loki asked, voice sweet with the promise of murder. 

"Director Fury." 

Before Loki could think to respond to that, the machines powered up. The soldiers all stumbled back, eyes wide, and Loki turned towards the control booth. Selvig stood there, expression grim, but he inclined his head to Loki, a silent approval of his actions. What the scientist knew – or _thought_ he knew – of the situation, Loki could care less, but he would take what assistance he could, from wherever it was offered. 

Heimdall was awaiting him on the edge of the shattered bridge, and they stared at each other for a long moment before the Guardian turned his gaze back towards the black drop of space. "You lack time to stare, Lie-Smith." 

Loki hesitated for a moment before asking, "What reception should I expect?" 

"That of Asgard's prince," Heimdall allowed. 

That was very much _not_ reassuring, but Loki squared his shoulders and teleported to Gladsheim all the same. For Heimdall had been correct; he lacked time. 

Mother met him in the middle of the hall, tears in her eyes, and drew him into a warm hug, even as the Æsir murmured disapprovingly around them. Loki could feel the heavy weight of their stares on him, but he was practised enough at ignoring them that it had become second nature. 

"My time is short," he said to his mother, gently slipping from her hold. "Please, Mother, I must speak with the Allfather." 

Mother made a soft sound – somewhere between a laugh and a sob – when he called her 'Mother', but the hint of a smile on her lips faded when he refused the same courtesy for Odin. She quickly gathered herself and nodded. "Come, then." And she took his arm and started forward with him in step, as they so often had. 

The familiarity soothed him somewhat, so when he faced Odin's one-eyed stare, he felt less like he might scream hatred at him for everything that had come between them. Instead, he disengaged from Mother and stiffly inclined his head. "Allfather. I have a petition." 

"You have no _right_ to petition, traitor!" someone shouted from the crowd. 

"I petition on behalf of Thor's shield brother," Loki said, voice loud and clear, both responding, and not, to nameless voice. 

"And why can this warrior not offer his own petition?" Odin asked, single eye solemn. 

Loki swallowed. "He lays dying." 

A roar of disapproval and mocking came from the crowds: "A _mortal_?" "Any a traitor would petition for is best left to die." "I doubt Prince Thor even knows this person, let alone would call him shield brother." 

Gungir slammed, loud and violent, against the floor, demanding silence. Then Odin requested, "What is your reason for denying this mortal his rightful place in Valhalla?" 

"His wounds were gained through sacrifice, not battle, and they gift him a slow death," Loki replied evenly, expression carefully blank. "He is destined for Hel. None would have Thor's shield brother reside there, I think." 

"Which one?" a familiar voice called, and Sif stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Which mortal." 

"Anthony Stark. The Man of Iron," Loki added, for those who better knew his lover's hero name. 

"How came he by these wounds?" Mother requested over the quiet murmurs of the Æsir. 

"Rescuing children from fire." 

"Odin," Mother said into the silence that followed Loki's words. She saw no shame in letting her voice drip with a plea, and when Loki looked up at Odin, he saw the first sign of light, the first possibility that Anthony might survive. 

"Why would we believe any words that pass Loki's silver tongue?" a faceless voice called out, and Odin's expression closed off. 

"Have you knowledge of Midgard's warriors that gives you leave to decide what might or mightn't be truth?" Sif snapped, turning to the crowd, to that faceless voice. Defending Loki. 

_No,_ Loki admitted bitterly, _defending **Anthony**._

"I need hardly know this warrior to know you never trust a word that drips from the Lie-Smith's tongue." 

Approval surged around the room, and Loki felt his heart sink under its weight. Against his sworn promise, he had come to Asgard. He had petitioned the Allfather, as was the right of any being of the Nine Realms. He had done _everything_.

_No, not everything,_ Loki admitted. But was Anthony worth what little pride he had left? 

Gladsheim fell silent as Loki sank to his knees, head bowed, the air vibrating with disbelief. Loki Odinson? _Willingly_ kneeling? Only for his children had he allowed himself to show such weakness, and after each refusal, it took him longer to kneel. 

And this was no blood, this was a _mortal_.

And then, in the deafening silence, Loki said, "Please. Don't leave him to die. Not like this." 

'Not ever,' Loki didn't say, _couldn't_ say. It would be too much of a tell, too much proof of something he wasn't even quite willing to admit to himself, yet. 

And Odin, who had ever denied Loki when the Trickster fell to his knees in the past, finally did the right thing: Gungir hit the floor and he called out, "Send for Iðunn." 

Loki nearly collapsed in relief. 

-0-

"I had been unaware he meant so much to you, Brother." 

Loki flicked his eyes up at Thor, both of them standing just outside Anthony's room while the others celebrated the mortal's miraculous recovery. He had not mentioned the apple, but Thor had known; it was difficult to miss the glow, subtle as it was under the hospital lights. "There was no honour in his death," he returned, dry and uncaring. 

"You went to Asgard for him," Thor pointed, unwilling to let it lay. As ever, Thor had to poke at everything until it either poked him back, or he was forcefully restrained. 

"One of us had to, and you were clearly too caught up in your grief to think of it," Loki snarled, pushing away from the wall. "I'm to the manor; it will surely be quieter than _here_."

"Loki," Thor called after him, and Loki slowed only because the elder had used his _name_. "I thank you. For Tony, for the other mortals and myself, and for _you_."

Loki turned back and flashed him a smile that was all teeth. " _Sentiment_ , Brother," he said, sarcastic and biting. 

But Thor just smiled, understanding everything that Loki would never admit to. 

-0-

Loki's personal revelations made no difference in his relationship with Anthony, and between his staunch refusal to admit he had anything to do with the miraculous recovery, and his absence directly after, they seemed to forever be fighting. After the second week he'd had to spend either in his forgotten room in the manor or – on particularly bad nights – in his own flat, Loki threw up his hands, declared his lover could _stew_ , and hurried off to a random universe. 

He went through two other Anthonys, over a dozen nameless men and women humans, and a couple non-humans of questionable gender before another jump between universes found him, again, falling through the Void. 

It felt longer than ever before, colder, like it was seeping so deeply into his soul that he would forever become a part of it. A part of him fought, that part that was still Loki, that had survived the endless fall into the unkind hands of Thanos and the Other. But so much of him, heartsick with emotions he daren't admit to and spurned by the one he'd thrown away his pride for, sank gratefully into the cold, the nothing. 

Thomas' universe formed around him, but Loki was barely aware, almost didn't notice the warm hand on his cheek, the whispered, "Loki?" And then, louder, " _Loki_!"

Loki rolled towards the warm embrace of unconsciousness. 

-0-

Loki woke shivering, somehow both too cold, and too hot. Something damp was on his forehead, and he was weighed down by too many blankets. He wasn't sure where he was, wasn't sure how he'd come to be in such a state; Iðunn's apples kept them from contracting any illness, so this was impossible. 

"Hey," a gentle voice said. Familiar. 

The damp cloth was taken away and a new, cool one was put in its place. A hand brushed Loki's cheek, and it felt wonderful – just the right temperature – so he leaned into it, closing his eyes and letting out a quiet whimper. 

"Hey," the voice said again, and something nudged Loki's lips. "You need to drink this, Loki. Come on, just a little bit." 

Loki opened his mouth and let the liquid trickle down his throat, slow and controlled. It felt nice, not as nice as the hand that still touched his cheek, but nice. 

"Go back to sleep, okay?" the voice said as the liquid was taken away. 

Loki relaxed back a bit, but as soon as the hand left his cheek, he flailed heavy arms after it. "Nu-nu-no!" 

"Loki?" The hand returned, the cloth on his forehead carefully resettled. 

Loki got one heavy hand up and clamped it over the hand on his cheek, determined to keep it there. 

The other the out a heavy sigh. "Loki, I can't stay bac– You're not giving me back my hand. Of course you're not. When has _anything_ been simple with you?" The hand tugged. "Let me get a chair. Can I do that?" 

It took Loki a moment to work through that question, but he eventually loosened his grip, letting the other go. 

They were quick, and returned with two hands for Loki to hold on to, comfortable and right, and he dozed back off. 

-0-

There was a body behind him, sharing the mound of covers. Loki felt safe, secure with another at his back, so he assumed it was Anthony. 

But, no. The body-shape was wrong. This person was too tall, was lacking the barely-there hum that accompanied the arc reactor. 

Loki looked carefully over his shoulder, and even in the dark of the bedroom, he recognised the arch of Thomas' nose, the hint of a curl to his hair. The muscles that had begun to tense immediately relaxed, and he curled back against the mortal, only then realising there were arms around his chest, hands locked over his sternum. 

He remembered being ill, how Thomas' touch had eased the sensation. He remembered, too, the way this mortal had seemed to chase away the chill of the Void the last two times. 

The touch of other versions of himself had always hurt him, but Thomas' touch was like a balm. He was the exact opposite of everything Loki had come to expect in meeting his mirrors. 

"Hey," Thomas murmured, voice rough with sleep. He pressed his nose against Loki's shoulder, breath fanning out over the god's shoulder in a way that he'd only ever found so arousing with Anthony, in the past, never having trusted another enough to sleep behind him. "How d'you feel?" 

Loki pressed his hands against the two over his sternum, silent safety. "Much improved." 

Thomas hummed, the sound vibrating between them. "What happened?" 

Loki was too comfortable to tense, but it was a near thing. "What do you mean?" 

"I thought you weren't coming back." 

_Ah._ Loki pressed his hands a little tighter against the two holding him. "I...have never meant to come here," he admitted, safe and tired. Tired of fighting and lying and running away from truth. "The space between universes, it is like the Void, cold dark nothing." He shuddered, and Thomas pressed a little tighter against his back, their legs tangling together. "Sometimes, I slip. I aim for one universe, but it's too far, or it moves at the last moment; I don't know. I fall, into the Void, and your universe catches me. I always land near you." 

One of Thomas' hands slipped free from Loki's grasp and slid over his chest, stopping over Loki's heart and pressing down against it, pushing the god just that littlest bit tighter back against the mortal. "You were so hot when you appeared, hot enough a human would have died degrees before," Thomas said, voice quiet and a little scared. "I wasn't sure what to do, but I couldn't–"

The mortal breathed, hard and stuttering against Loki's shoulder. "I've a friend who's a nurse, so I rang her up and asked about what they did when someone had a high fever. Told her it was research for a part. She laughed, but she told me what to do. But everything I did, none of it had the same effect as when I sat next to you and held your hand. So I stayed." 

"There is nothing right about this universe," Loki murmured. 

"And, yet, you keep ending up here. Like it's where you were meant to be." 

"Or you were a person I had need to meet." Loki huffed out a laugh and closed his eyes, exhaustion creeping over him again. 

"Maybe we needed to meet each other," Thomas suggested, then pressed his nose to Loki's shoulder. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here." 

Oddly, Loki couldn't help but trust that he would. 

-0-

"How're things back in your world, then? Universe," Thomas asked over breakfast, Loki well enough to sit up at the kitchen table, though Thomas wouldn't allow him anything more than chicken broth. 

Loki tensed at the memory of how things had been left. 

"Bad," Thomas deduced, hiding his expression behind his coffee. "Will you tell me what happened? Or should I guess?" 

Loki had a feeling he would like Thomas' guesses far less than he liked the truth, so he steeled himself against the sharp pain of memory and stiffly replied, "Anthony nearly died, so I procured a golden apple for him, then left before I could be dragged into their celebration of good health. He is angry with me." 

"So you ran away." 

"I remained two weeks," Loki snarled, clenching his fingers around the spoon so tightly it bent. 

"Why is he angry?" Thomas asked, voice calm. No judgement, no demands, just an ear to listen. He'd even set his mug down, entirely open to Loki's words. 

The anger drained from the god as quickly as it had come, and he set down the spoon to rub at his eyes. "I have no wish to take credit for his recovery; there was no pride in my request for the apple, I will take no pride in the result. He demands the truth, but I–" His throat closed over the words. 

Blue eyes, gentle and understanding, watched him. "You love him," Thomas said, like they hadn't fought over this very point at their last meeting. 

Loki looked down at his soup, eyes tracing the movement of a single bubble. "I pleaded," he whispered, secure in telling the truth to this mortal, this being so far removed from the universe Loki knew. 

A hand slid across the table, pressed into the centre of Loki's fist until his fingers uncurled and could entwine with Thomas'. "You love him," Thomas said again, a statement of fact, but not pushing, not insisting it was truth. 

"I love him," Loki whispered back, curling forward so his nose was nearly in his soup. The bowl was pulled away and Loki curled even further, touching his forehead to the fake wood and dark marble of the table top. "He doesn't." 

"You don't know that," Thomas murmured, a hand combing through Loki's hair. 

Loki huffed a laugh, quiet and fraying at the edges, and said, "Anthony Stark loves _no one_."

"The thing about people who seem the most like they'll never love," Thomas said, gentle and soothing, "is that they're often the ones who love the most. They're the ones who have had their heart broken too many times, so they try to pretend they'll never open it again, but they always do." 

Loki glanced up at him, through a curtain of black hair, fighting the urge to hope. 

Thomas smiled at him, sad but honest. "Loki, Tony Stark became Iron Man because he cared. He cared about making up for all his mistakes, about keeping people safe. His heart is so very large, so very willing to accept anyone and everyone he thinks might deserve it. And he knows he's going to get hurt, but he can't just stop caring." He reached out and carefully brushed some of Loki's hair out of the way, disrupting the curtain. "Neither can you." 

And wasn't that the entire problem? 

Thomas sat back and picked his coffee cup back up, signalling the end of the conversation, giving Loki a chance to pull his walls back up while the mortal took a long drink from his mug. "I've got the day off, but I'm busy tomorrow. You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Just–" He met Loki's eyes, lips turned with a sardonic smile. "I know you've got an open relationship thing, but please keep any fuck buddies out of my flat." 

Loki widened his eyes, all innocence and lies. "Why, Thomas, does that mean you won't give me comfort sex?" 

Thomas' eyes widened with shock and his choked on his coffee. "I– _What_?! Oh my G– _No_. We've talked about this, no." 

Loki started laughing, bright and amused, like he hadn't laughed in years. 

Thomas squeezed the hand he still held in his, a hint of pink across his cheeks. "You are an absolute _bastard_." And then he started laughing, too. 

-0-

"Where have you _been_?!"

Loki glanced up at Anthony as the mortal approached where he was seated on the couch, expression carefully blank. "Are you still cross with me?" he asked, voice cool. 

Anthony dropped to the floor in front of the couch and curled against Loki, burying his face in the God's stomach. 

Loki jerked in surprise, then reached down to run his hands through Anthony's hair. "What? What has happened? Anthony..." 

Dark eyes turned to look up at him, swimming with unshed tears and a sort of broken edge that wanted to ruin what was left of the barrier around Loki's heart, after his week with Thomas. "Amora found your apartment. She and Skurge completely trashed it, left something's blood all over the place. We thought–"

"I should never be so weak as to fall at _Amora's_ hand," Loki snapped, incensed. But his hand never stopped its soothing motion through Anthony's dark hair. "I'm insulted you would fall for her tricks for even a _moment_."

"Brother?" 

Loki looked up to find Thor standing in the doorway, eyes wide and cheeks damp. The other Avengers stood arranged behind him, relief visible in all their eyes. 

"You ugly _imbecile_!" Loki shouted, and Thor flinched. "In what universe, exactly, would Amora ever manage to best me? Would it do any good, I would hit you over the head with your precious Mjölnir in hopes of knocking some _sense_ into you!" 

"Oh, that's definitely Loki," Clinton decided, pushing past Thor to drop onto the other end of the couch, kicking a foot absently at the Trickster. "I really shouldn't be surprised that you decided to let us all freak out for almost two weeks." 

Suddenly, there were strong arms around Loki, and he shoved at them with the hand that wasn't in Anthony's hair. "Get...off me...you... _brute_!" he snarled. 

"I was so worried," Thor whispered against his hair, tears soaking into the top of Loki's head. "We all were." 

"No more going AWOL," Rogers requested as he, Banner, and Natasha settled into armchairs. 

"This thing you two have going on, where you can just vanish without a word for a month?" Natasha added, something sharp in her tone. "It stops now. I don't care if you go off the grid for a few days – fuck knows the rest of us need a few days away from this fun house every other week or so – but you let us know when you're leaving and how long you'll be gone." 

"Please," Anthony whispered, voice loud in the silence following Natasha's demands. 

Loki looked down, past Thor's arms, into those helpless eyes, staring up at him from where Anthony was kneeling, and he saw himself, pleading Odin for an apple to save Anthony's life. "Thor, let go," he ordered, and the arms reluctantly moved away. Then Loki leaned down and pressed his forehead against Anthony's, closing his eyes against a wave of sudden comfort. "I promise," he whispered. 

"Thank _fuck_ ," Clinton breathed out in a rush. 

Loki reached out with one long leg and kicked the archer, which earned him a pillow to the head. 

It rather devolved from there. 

-0-

Without his flat, Loki was forced to reside in the manor all the time. He converted his rarely-used bedroom into a new workroom, retrieving what he could from his ruined flat. And while he stayed as long as he could, unable to leave Anthony after two heartrending near-losses, he eventually got sick of the Avengers, of being forced to stare at the same walls all day. 

He knew he could simply go out, spend a couple days in another country, but he itched for another universe, for different people who were sometimes the same. 

In truth, he itched for Thomas, who had become a something of a rock while Loki had settled his own heart; never pushing, but always understanding, always seeming to know exactly what Loki needed to hear at that exact moment. And able to take a bit of snarling or teasing, which was more than Loki could say for most of the humans he lived with. 

He let Rogers and Anthony both know that he'd be gone for no more than four days, then left for that universe at the edge of the Void, the one that was always there to catch him. 

It was different, seeking it out. It still caught him with welcoming arms, but there was no bone-deep sensation of the Void, and he landed with the same ease he'd managed on other planets, rather than crashing into something. 

"Loki?" Thomas called. 

Loki glanced around and found he was in the middle of a city, surrounded by a small crowd of humans. Thomas was standing in front of him, blue eyes wide and curious. 

Loki widened his eyes as far as he could and leaned forward before whispering, "They're driving me _crazy_!"

Thomas laughed, loud and delighted, and Loki grinned at him, relaxing in a way he only did after a particularly impressive session of sex with Anthony. 

Thomas linked their arms and motioned for them to keep walking, shoulders brushing. "Did you and Tony make up, then?" 

Loki grimaced, remembering the way they'd both simply brushed their argument to the side, after everything that had happened. "It's complicated." 

Thomas glanced over at him, helplessly amused. "It always is," he replied and shook his head. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Strangely enough, Loki realised he did. 

-0-

Months passed, and Loki slowly stopped sleeping with anyone beyond Anthony. Given his usual sexual appetite, it was difficult to wrap his mind around being exclusive, but, then, with the magic of the golden apple flowing in his veins, Anthony could almost keep up with him. And he had found a sort of comfort in Thomas' presence, would rather spend a handful of days watching terrible films with him, than a night fucking some nameless mortal against a wall. 

It was really rather worrying how attached he was becoming to Thomas. If they were sleeping together, Loki would have ended it long before it could become a problem, because he only needed one kept mortal (or, well, semi-mortal, given that Anthony had eaten a golden apple). But they weren't sleeping together – Loki occasionally offered, but Thomas always reminded him about his policy – and Loki couldn't quite bring himself to stop visiting. 

And then, one evening after dinner, Thomas wished him good night and Loki, as usual, teased, "Leaving me out here, on your couch, all alone, when we could be warming each other under your covers? Ah, my Thomas, you are so cruel."

Thomas paused at the head of the hallway down to his room, then casually replied, "If that's what you really want." 

Loki froze, his heart stuttering in his chest before starting to beat too rapidly. This wasn't how their game went. He licked his lips, then asked, "What happened to, 'I only sleep with people I have feelings for'?" 

Thomas was still for a long moment, then he turned and regarded the god with a helpless smile. "Pretty crap way to let you know, isn't it?" He lowered his gaze to the floor, running a hand through his pale hair, curls clinging to his fingers. "I know you're trying to be exclusive to Tony, that this is a _really_ bad idea, but I just..." He sighed and glanced up, expression troubled. "Tell me no, and we'll go back to before. This doesn't have to change anything." 

Loki stood, then, and started a slow prowl forward, considering the mortal. Thomas was beautiful, in his way, and Loki had honestly wanted to have him, in the beginning. Still did, if he was being honest with himself. 

But Thomas was his rock, willing to listen when no one else would, refusing to judge even the worst of Loki. Only his mother had ever held that position before, and Loki had been lost without her. 

Could he share a bed with two men, and have neither lose their importance? Could he honestly run the chance of losing Thomas for sex? 

Loki stopped in front of the mortal and took his chin in a rough hand. When Thomas winced, Loki found himself gentling his touch without even thinking about it. The rapid thrum of Thomas' pulse transferred through Loki's fingers, and, oh, Loki _wanted_.

Loki had never been good at denying himself. 

Thomas was the one to initiate the kiss. There was a sharpness, a _desperation_ to it, but it was gentler than anything Loki had shared with Anthony. There was no uncertainty, no fight for dominance, because Thomas knew where he stood with Loki. There, too, were no desperate fumblings, for he and Thomas were of a height; Anthony always had to drag Loki's head down, pulling his hair and snarling when Loki felt like resisting. 

They stumbled their way down the hallway and into Thomas' bedroom, a sense of urgency – not unlike his trysts with Anthony, but nothing like those nameless mortals – between them, directing them as they fell into the bed, Loki thoughtlessly vanishing both their clothing. 

Thomas let out a breathless laugh, and the hands that had been loose at the small of Loki's back trailed up, blunt nails digging in against his spine when Loki pressed the mortal down against the mattress. "I've never– Not with a man," Thomas admitted, and beyond the faint flush to his face and throat, there was no hint of shame. 

Loki smirked down at him before leaning forward and licking along his jaw. He stopped next to Thomas' ear to whisper, "When I am through with you, you will wish to have _many_ men." 

Thomas' blunt nails bit into his shoulders, an unexpected pain. "No," the mortal breathed into Loki's ear. "Not 'many men'. Just you." 

Loki couldn't help the whine that crawled his throat, and he pulled back to meet the other's gaze. "Take care," he warned, voice low. 

Thomas met his gaze without flinching, a hint of challenge in the twist of his mouth. "Little late for that." 

Loki resisted the urge to react to that, beyond moving against the mortal, slow. Thomas hissed out a breath and one of his hands tangled in Loki's hair, tugging at the strands to bring Loki's mouth down to his. 

Loki always used magic for preparation, usually far too hurried to go slow, but with Thomas, it felt proper to prepare him slowly, only using magic to create lubricant. 

And, ah, the mortal's quiet whimpers, the way he arched and writhed under Loki as he slowly, carefully, stretched him... It was worth it. 

_Thomas was not Anthony,_ Loki reminded himself when he finally pressed in, slow and careful; Anthony screamed his pleasure for the whole manor to hear, but Thomas was quiet, biting his lip to silence as much noise as possible. Where Anthony always demanded 'Harder' and 'Faster', Thomas' fingers dug into Loki's back the most when he went slow, when he treated the mortal like he might fall apart in his hands. 

Anthony was passion, all-encompassing and impossible to ignore; Thomas was emotion, quiet and easily overlooked, until that moment it flared. 

And Thomas was beautiful when he came, back bowed as though in pain, mouth wide with an unvoiced cry. And his eyes... 

Bright blue, seeing straight through all of Loki's careful walls, until the god simply let them fall, and lost himself without them, free for one brief moment in a way he hadn't been in so long... 

Sated and warm, with Thomas sleeping peacefully on his chest, Loki realised that joining Thomas in bed would only deepen what connection they had, for even here, the mortal was his own person, held his own importance. 

_Is it possible to love two mortals equally?_

-0-

"What did you get him?" Natasha asked of the box Loki held between his hands. 

"Nothing of importance." 

"Tell me it's a wrench," Clinton said, smile sharp around the edges in a way that suggested that would be a poor plan for a gift. 

"I love wrenches," Anthony stated, announcing his entrance for all gathered. "They're like socks to my Dumbledore." 

"That's...Harry Potter?" Rogers asked, brow furrowed. 

"First book, Cap," Anthony agreed, draping himself around Loki's shoulders like he was claiming his territory. "You're getting there." 

Rogers sighed and shook his head, then pushed his own box across the table. "Happy birthday, Tony." 

The others chorused the words and pushed their own gifts forward, towards Loki and Anthony. For his part, Anthony grinned, wide and obnoxious, and reached past Loki to pick up each gift, which he then opened in the god's lap. 

The objects each had meaning in their own way, and were always at least partially homemade, for what else could one gift to their benefactor. Anthony made polite, pleased noise at each unveiling, and set them to the side before picking out the next. 

At last, though, only Loki's remained, held tight between his hands and dented around the edges. 

"Can I have this, or are you going to strangle it some more?" Anthony teased as he gently worked the box from Loki's hands. He took little care with the wrapping, but he stopped with a frown to consider the puzzle that held the gift, finally straightening from his slump against Loki's back. 

The god rather missed him, though he made a show of breathing in relief at the sudden lack of weight. 

Anthony took a seat and fiddled with the box all through the breakfast Rogers and Clinton had made, then spent at least another two hours with it in the living room, the television on for background noise. 

At last, however, he opened it with a cry of victory. Everyone hurried over to see – none of them had gone far, all curious – and made disappointed noises to find it was a paper with only an anvil on it. 

It was Thor, eyes widening, who realised, "Svartálfaheimr!" 

Anthony turned wide eyes on Loki, who was lounging in a nearby chair, fire playing across his fingers in a way that he knew made Clinton nervous. "That's where the dwarves live," the not-quite-mortal said. 

Loki shrugged. "So it is." 

"When?" Anthony demanded, and let it never be said he was slow on the uptake. 

Loki shrugged again. "Whenever it pleases you." 

"For how long?" Natasha demanded while the others caught up with the rather cryptic conversation. 

Loki looked to Anthony, then, for it would be he that would suffer their fury for an extended absence. The inventor considered it for a moment, eyes tracing over the mark on the paper he held, then he glanced up at his team. "No more than a week." He looked to Loki, then, and said, "Loki'll keep me on track." 

"Aye," Thor agreed, knowing well how Loki and Svartálfaheimr's denizens got on, "that he will." 

"One week," Rogers agreed, and the others all nodded. 

Two days later, Loki and Anthony left, and Anthony enjoyed himself so much, Loki could only get him to leave by promising they would return. 

-0-

The first time Loki's visit coincided with Thomas having a free week after the mortal's birthday – Thomas probably thought he'd not cared about it, or simply hadn't marked it due to his back-and-forth between universes – Loki said, "You once stated interest in meeting Anthony." 

Thomas, standing over the sink and washing the lettuce for their dinner, paused for a moment, then turned off the water before turning to look at the god. "I did," he agreed carefully. "You said it was too dangerous." 

"I said there have been no reports of mortals travelling universes, and I could not assure your safety." 

"And now you can?" 

Loki took a slow breath, mind flying back over the spell he had created, the one he hoped would protect Thomas for the trip. "I have no guarantees, only theories." Well, theories and three rats that had survived a round trip. 

Thomas tapped his fingers on the edge of the sink. "I'm, oddly, willing to trust your theories." He glanced towards the calendar on the wall over the kitchen table, marked in blue and black and red for the many plans he had. A length of empty dates stretched ahead of them, and Thomas asked, "How long have you been planning this?" 

"February," was Loki's prompt reply, having expected the question. 

Thomas turned to him, blue eyes an odd mix of sharp and surprised. "You _didn't_ forget." 

Loki snorted. "Of course not. You believe me so dull as to forget a date?" 

"You didn't say anything!" 

Loki raised an unimpressed eyebrow and flicked a hand towards the calendar, which obediently flipped back to February. The month was full of colours, not a day clear, and Loki remarked, "When had I opportunity to?" 

A flush tinged Thomas' cheeks and throat, the latter of which he cleared as the calendar returned to the current month. "Right. I, eheh. Sorry." 

Loki leaned back in his chair and picked at a nail. "If your interest has waned–"

" _No_!" Thomas reached out and grabbed Loki's hand, their fingers slotting together without conscious effort on either part. "Oh, God. Right." He gently swatted the back of Loki's hand with his free one as the god glanced up at him, eyes dancing. "One of these days, I'll stop falling for that." 

"No, you won't." 

Thomas rolled his eyes and leaned down to knock his forehead against Loki's. "When are we leaving?" 

Loki's lips pulled with an honest smile and he squeezed the mortal's hand. "You may have wish to warn your fellows, but we can travel starting tomorrow afternoon." 

Thomas' eyes lit up and he pulled back to dig in his pocket for his phone. 

Loki spared a brief thought for Anthony's certain reaction to that phone and had to hide his amusement behind his tea. It would certainly be fun to watch his two lovers interact. 

(He was only a little worried about how that would go.) 

-0-

Loki needn't have worried, as it turned out. Anthony was immediately smitten with Loki's mortal mirror, and Thomas had once made a drunken comment about how, with how much Loki talked about him, he was pretty sure he would have no trouble sleeping with the inventor. And, well-kissed and hard from Loki groping him before Anthony's arrival, Thomas seemed to have no compunctions about kissing Anthony. 

There was something entirely too arousing about watching his lovers kiss, especially with Thomas playing at dominance, and Loki spent perhaps a little extra time drinking the sight in than he otherwise might have with any other two. 

It was JARVIS that got them moving towards the bedroom, announcing, _"Captain Rogers is heading this way to watch the television, Sir. Thor is accompanying him."_

Thomas' blush, which had been diminishing, flared again and he turned wide eyes on Loki. "I _told_ you." 

Loki smirked at him; the meeting between Anthony and Thomas wouldn't have been half as much fun without the chance that another of the Avengers might have come across them first. 

Anthony pushed hard back against Loki, rubbing the cleft of his rear against Loki's interested cock. "How about we move this to the bedroom _before_ your brother realises you're back ahead of schedule?" 

Loki entwined one hand with Thomas', the other still wrapped around Anthony, then teleported them to the bedroom without any further fuss. When Thomas gave no sign of discomfort at the teleportation – a sure sign that he was used to it – Anthony cast a raised eyebrow over his shoulder. The inventor was more than clever enough to read the signs of how long Loki had been entertaining Thomas, but, then, Thomas could easily tell the same of Anthony. (Though the actor had a cheat in that he'd known about Anthony since before Loki realised how important he was.) 

Loki wasn't inclined to sleep with idiots. 

Thomas distracted Anthony by slipping his hands under the tight muscle shirt the inventor wore. When Anthony turned dark eyes back to him, Thomas enquired, "Anything I'm not allowed to do?" 

Anthony considered that for a moment, then said, "Don't take the arc reactor out." 

Not 'don't _touch_ the arc reactor,' only 'don't remove it'. Loki raised both eyebrows at that, intrigued; he knew from one post-orgasm talk about other lovers, and talk around the living room after missions, that Anthony didn't like people touching the arc reactor. He allowed Loki to touch it while they were in bed or having sex in an awkward position that required it, and Miss Potts and the other Avengers had the okay if it was an emergency, but anyone else usually walked away with a fist in the face – assuming they walked away at all – if they tried touching it. 

Thomas narrowed his eyes briefly, as familiar as Loki with Anthony's past, but he smiled any concerns away. "Wouldn't dream of it," he promised. 

Anthony hummed, arching forward against the hands under his shirt. "Any rules from you, Tom?" 

Thomas' lips twitched. "Try not to bite me?" 

Anthony chuckled. "How often has Loki forgotten that one?" 

Thomas' eyes gleamed and flickered to watch Loki roll his eyes. "Just the once." 

Anthony pushed up on his toes, gripping Thomas' shoulders for leverage, and nudged the actor's jaw. "Now I'm _really_ curious." 

"There'll be time," Loki said, eyes narrowed as he began to realise exactly how bad of an idea it may have been to introduce his two lovers. 

The humans traded a look, then Anthony said, "Time enough to try every position I can think of, I hope. And I can think of a _lot_."

Pink flared across Thomas' cheeks. "Have one in mind to start?" 

"I'll bet I can fit both of you in my ass," Anthony replied, voice entirely too cocky for the way he was still braced up on his toes. 

Thomas' pupils blew wide and his eyes met Loki's around the inventor's head. The god smirked at him and pulled Anthony back against his chest, taking perhaps a little too much pleasure from the way the man startled at the sudden shift in his balance. "I'm sure you can," he murmured against Anthony's ear before he tilted his head around and sunk his teeth into the not-quite-mortal's earlobe. 

Anthony let out an extremely satisfying shout, arching against the arms Loki had wrapped around his chest to keep him up. There was the sound of a zipper, then Anthony let out a whimper, which drew out to a moan as Thomas pulled the inventor's jeans down enough to free his cock. 

One of Anthony's hands reached up and pull against Loki's hair until the god let his ear go, licking away the hint of blood from a wound that was already closing. Anthony groaned again, bucking his hips towards Thomas and his teasing grip, then he demanded, "Naked. Bed. _Now_."

Loki waved their clothing away before walking them over to the bed, where they dropped together in a tangle of limbs, Anthony pressed between Loki and Thomas and finally on height with them, in a manner of speaking. The inventor wasted no time in leaning forward to further test Thomas' kissing skills, leaving Loki to the preparation. 

Magic saw to that quickly enough, though Loki also took the chance to get a little manual stretching in, enjoying the sound of Anthony's moans and whimpers, swallowed by Thomas, and the sight of the two humans rocking together, not quite enough friction for either of them to come, but enough to keep them wanting. And, mm, they _did_ look quite delicious together, skin nearly the same skin-kissed tone, hair contrasting as much as their personalities... 

They broke to breathe, chests heaving, and Loki took that moment to push Thomas on his back in the middle of the bed. "Climb on top," he ordered Anthony, who did so, limbs shaking slightly with arousal. 

Before Loki could properly join them, however, Anthony grabbed his shoulder and ordered, "Condoms." 

Loki snarled – he _hated_ the Midgardian contraptions, saw no reason for them when the apples negated mortal diseases – but obediently leaned over to get them from the nearest bedside table; there was a time and place for this particular argument. 

Thomas took the condom Loki handed him without complaint, sliding it on with a practised movement that spoke to his familiarity with them, for all that he'd never insisted on them. (It had come up, once, their second time, but when Loki had started ranting about how much he hated them, the actor had slipped them away and not brought it up again.) 

With condoms on, and a flicker of magic adding more than enough lubrication, Anthony and Thomas shifted until the actor could easily breech the inventor and still leave room for Loki. 

Anthony was well-stretched, and while both humans let out groans when Thomas pressed in – Anthony so much louder, he nearly drowned the actor out – it was clear it wasn't enough. 

"Loki, Loki, come on. Come on, _now_ ," Anthony ordered over his shoulder, hands carefully bracketing Thomas' head, while the actor's hands were spread wide over the inventor's hips and thighs. "Stop being a fucking slow-ass and get your dic–ha!" His back arched as Loki pressed in, and Thomas' breathing stuttered tellingly from beneath the inventor. 

"Oh. Oh my fuck." Anthony let out a whine as Loki stopped his forward momentum, in as far as he could get for the moment. "Jesus _fuck_. Give me a–"

Anthony's rambling cut off when Loki leaned around him to catch Thomas' mouth in an easy kiss. Thomas let out a breathless gasp into Loki's mouth, one of his hands leaving Anthony's hip to dig into Loki's side, nails just long enough to bite through flesh. 

"Didn't think I could get more aroused," Anthony commented, then groaned out, long and loud, when Loki pulled away from Thomas to start moving. 

They were more than a little uncoordinated, the three of them, but between Thomas' breathless whimpers, Anthony's loud groans and curses, and the steady build of pleasure low in his belly, Loki figured they had to have been doing _something_ right. (Or a great many things, really.) 

Thomas came first, whispering a curse against Anthony's forehead, and the sensation of the actor's cock pulsing next to his own set Loki off. A spark of magic finished Anthony off with a shout. 

It was left to Loki to settle them all under the blankets and magic away the proof of their coupling. And though he had been the one settling them, he really had no idea how he ended up between the two humans – Thomas' hand tight over his heart, Anthony's low over his abdomen – but he found he was plenty content to remain.

..


End file.
